


We Deal In Lead

by WearyBlues



Series: Billy and Goodnight One-Shots [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, i just like them loving and supporting each other that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WearyBlues/pseuds/WearyBlues
Summary: Billy doesn’t know war the way Goody does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, second fanfic ever.  
> I saw The Magnificent Seven yesterday and got such an old married couple vibe from Goodnight and Billy.  
> And I thought they did a great job handling PTSD, so I wrote a fic about it. (Besides, there is only, like, two Billy/Goodnight fics out there)  
> Have a lovely day and drop me a kudos or comment if you liked it!!

When they make it to the town, it’s well past sundown. Though the plains are dark, laughter and shouts can be heard echoing off of the town’s sparse buildings. 

Faraday is whistling quietly to himself and absentmindedly clinking a liquor bottle against the metal of his saddle as they mosey up to an inn. Chisholm doesn’t bother hushing him. 

As they tie up their horses, Billy watches Goody. Goody’s hands had started shaking around noon and hadn’t stopped since. Billy watches as a tremor passes through Goody’s broad back and his weathered hands fumble the reins. Billy doesn’t offer help, Goody won’t take it.

“Tell the owner I’m in desperate need of good, soft bed and a good, soft woman.” Faraday calls after Chisholm, leaning back with his hands on his hips and cracking god-knows-what. 

“And something better than undercooked beans to eat.” Vasquez adds, shouldering Faraday out of the way and sneering at him. Faraday sneers back, and mimes throwing sand at him, but they’re both too tired to keep the fight going. 

“My beans are always cooked to perfection.” Faraday manages to muster in offense. Though Horne just pushes past the both of them, muttering to himself and shaking his head. Billy doesn’t like Horne, though there are few men he does like.

Faraday and Vasquez finally stop bickering as the hostess sets down plates of corn, bread, and potatoes in front of them. The sight makes even Red Harvest sigh contentedly. 

Billy eats his meal quickly and listens to the slightly slurred talk around him. When he pushes his empty plate back, Chisholm gives him a questioning look. So he noticed Goody, too. 

Billy shakes his head minutely and glances at Goody out of the corner of his eye. Goody’s hands are steady but his eyes are blank. Billy thinks even Faraday and Vasquez have started to notice- Goody is usually one to crack jokes and jeer -but his tongue remains oddly still. And when the hostess comes to clear away their dishes, the whole table has gone quiet. 

Even as they divvy up the rooms- Horne and Chisholm in one, Faraday, Red Harvest, and Vasquez in another, then Goody and himself in one at the end of the hall -the party is hushed. It’s only when Faraday mumbles out a “Goodnight.” and Goody replies dryly, “Who? Me?” That the tension is broken. 

Faraday punches Goody in the arm goodnaturedly and Vasquez gripes in Spanish. Chisholm guffaws and slaps Goody on the back, and for a second Billy thinks Goody is okay again, but Goody’s eyes are still glazed.

Chisholm gives Billy a wary look before closing the door. 

 

Billy is used to silence, but it feels oppressive as Goody and him prepare for bed. Goody strips mechanically and folds his jacket, pants, and shirt neatly. Billy feels a shiver creep up his back- it’s how Goody folded them after he left the army, quick and sure. And when Billy looks at Goody, he won’t look back. 

So Billy snuffs out the lamp and carefully crawls into bed. The sheets, mercifully, feel clean and the mattress doesn’t squeal obscenely. But Billy feels a spike of anxiety, something he thought banished long ago, and the impulse to reach out and touch is unbearable. 

It nearly makes Billy jump when he feels the painfully careful press of Goody’s hand gripping his shoulder. Billy can hear Goody’s rapid breathing in the dark and it makes the warning bells in his head screech like a train going off the tracks.

It’s been a long time since Goody has had an episode like this, but Billy hasn’t forgotten what they were like. 

The first had happened a few nights after they had met, when they had both gotten roaring drunk and nearly knocked each other over as they stumbled back to the boarding house. Billy had felt happy and light, drifting on a cloud of booze, and Goody was there with him to enjoy it. 

They were laughing at nothing and dancing up the steps to the boarding house when a gun went off in the saloon next door. The shot shook the building like an earthquake and just like that, the spell was broken. 

Billy looked at Goody, but his eyes had gone wide and wild, like a caged animal. An when Billy reached out to touch him, Goody jerked away like he had been burned, scrambling back until he was pressed against the wood paneling of the boarding house. 

Goody’s knees were drawn up and his breathing was shallow and fast. Billy felt a stab of fear, but tamped it down. He slowly sidled up until he was crouched next to Goody and carefully sat down. 

Billy waited, listening next door as the sheriff arrived and hauled the drunk idiot who fired down to the jailhouse. Eventually, Goody’s breath evened out and he looked back at Billy with bleary eyes, all joviality gone. 

When Goody spoke, his voice cracked, “Would you do me a favor, Billy, and help me back up to our room?”

So Billy did, slinging an arm around Goody’s shoulders and heaving him up. They painstakingly made their way back up to their room, waving off the hostess’ offers to help. Billy dropped Goody on their bed, and for awhile they looked at each other and panted. 

Oddly enough, Goody started to laugh. It was deep and broken, making his chest seize up and his face pinch in pain. Billy listened to the harsh, choked laughter patiently and stripped off his clothing. 

When Goody settled, Billy reached out to help undress him. Goody didn’t object- he was drunker than Billy even before -but looked at him searchingly as Billy stripped him of his shirt, then his boots and pants. 

With Goody’s eyes on him, it felt like a crackle of lightening was dancing on his skin. So when Billy carefully slipped into bed next to Goody, he was unsurprised when a hand grabbed his arm in a bruising grip. He could feel Goody’s breath on his face and feel the tremors of his seizing chest through the mattress. There was a beat of hesitation, then Billy felt chapped lips on his. 

For a moment, it was soft and dry. Then Goody broke apart and leaned away, uncurling his hand from Billy’s bicep. His voice was strangled, “I’m sorry, Billy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Billy felt words on the tip of his tongue, but settled for cautiously winding his arms around Goody’s broad frame. They both went still, then slowly, Goody seemed to relax. Though his ragged breathing only gave way to gasping sobs. 

Billy tightened his grip and stroked the scarred skin of Goody’s back until he felt the other man surrender to sleep. Billy must have fallen asleep himself at some point in the night, for when he woke up, Goody was gone. 

There were many episodes since then, thought it had been awhile since the last. 

Goody is stronger now and the memories are not so fresh. Neither of them are young men anymore, but seasoned warriors.

And Billy has seen horrors of his own, not the clouds of smoke and the screams of the wounded and dying, but the cruelty and greed of man. The white man’s world is not kind to those that look the way he does, but Goody is proof of the kindness in it. 

So maybe Billy doesn’t know know war the way Goody does, but he can see that understanding in Chisholm’s eyes. In some ways, Chisholm will know that part of Goody better than he ever will. 

But Billy knows as Goody pulls him close, that he will love that part of Goody better than any could. And this time, when he wakes up the next morning, Goody will be there.


End file.
